The Day of Seven Gerberas

Felt quite messed up. Downtown Davao City with all its concrete and soot from vehicles sapped a day’s worth of my energy. I took a leave from work to help my friend, Miyang, on her first flower arranging gig for a wedding in San Pablo Church. It was a hot day. At two PM, the flowers were wilting and browning and it was quite hard photographing them. There’s too much white light outside and without a lens filter, the colors were unsaturated.

I don’t usually attend weddings; I’ve been to a very few in twenty years. It was too girly for me and the hype was a bit much. But my interest in taking photographs willed me to start exploring such events. No plans, really, to go pro and build a career on it. Don’t consider it a hobby; too expensive. I just wanted to try something new. I’d rather be dead than feel stuck.

So, anyway, somehow I found myself helping and liking cut flowers. Actually, I’d rather have them alive—growing in their stalks, pushing out from the Earth—and wild, please, whenever possible or at least cultivated and potted whenever not.

What Miyang had for the purple-motif wedding were the classic calla lilies—ah! what frail flowers—sturdier mums, and pretty gerberas. She accentuated her arrangements with fluffy, white artificial feathers which send my invisible horns sulking. I swear I needed a halo at that moment just to be in the spirit of it all.

I photographed her arrangements and before I sweat out all my fats, I had to leave. The entourage started arriving and I was a bit underdressed for the occasion. Plus, I don’t stand the fuss and the hype. Everyone’s too revved up; it’s hard to level with the energy in a sultry day.

Miyang brought too much flowers and I’d rather look stupid carrying some wrapped in newspaper than break my heart thinking I’d left them wilt. I picked seven fiery orange gerberas which reminded me of every low-light, orangey sunset in my damn, melodramatic life. I swear I could weep just thinking of it.

Gerberas were like a happy face with big, brown eyes that stare back and let you feel cheery and all. When you put them in a room, they make you feel less alone just like every good book, star, moon or lightbug. I was so single thus I never felt the need to save a vase. So, I stuffed all them flowers in an empty Pringles can at the staff house and tada! The seven, fiery orange gerberas were the first bunch I ever received and I was smiling at this like a moron; it felt odd.

After my photographing stint and flower adventure, around six PM, I sort of helped my work colleagues in the turnover ceremony of solar lamps to our indigenous people partners. But what bugged me for the rest of the night was seeing the seven, fiery orange gerberas sprouting out some geek face while we talked slash exchanged sentences. And all the visions of sunset played in the back of my head like an old time flick. How odd!